lullaby
by Sleeping Rabbit
Summary: It was an expensive price to pay; for this closeness, for his greed to claim this man.


"So," the skinnier man lazily stretched his body, "The one with me dying because the shuttle space I was in got struck by meteor shower; which version was it?"

"Two thousand five hundred and nine," a pause, "Uh, or eight, I lost count – you want me to recall _all_ fourteen million probabilities, that's just asking me the impossible, Tony."

The futurist giggled, "I thought magic makes all things possible."

"It has nothing to do with magical ability, it simply is a tribute to my eidetic memory," the sorcerer slightly loosened his embrace and Tony used the chance to put his head on his lover's board chest, "If only things are that simple, I'll just invite Thanos to Kamar-Taj and make him forget his ambition."

"Fair enough."

It was winter – a heavy, intense, icy winter.

The blizzard knocked on the New York Sanctum's window repeatedly, the strong wind gushed outside, forced the sturdy trees to surrender. It was less than zero degrees and it made Stephen Strange, the master of mystic art who was responsible to guard the base, activated his warming spells twice as potent than usual. The global temperature was gradually dropping after the massive fallout across the earth – and Tony Stark wasn't in his best condition lately. To spend a night with his wizard-sweetheart was a thing he considered as the best choice, so here he was, bundled himself in Stephen's private room, surrounded by the clicking sound of the ancient, living artifacts inside the glass boxes.

Tony blinked slowly. His eyes captured the bizarre view of stained glass and pale, rusty colors – the only reference he recognized considering magical world was Harry Potter, and this chamber remained him to the Hogwarts house of the serpent. The faint scent of old books and herbal tea tickled his nose. The smell of Stephen, he should add, a total opposite of his own workshop which reeked like burnt coal and oil. Every single thing in this building was unfamiliar, kind of insulting his intelligence, yet he didn't say anything that might offend his savior. Tony was anxious at first, but the soft touch on his exposed skin, and the warmth the cloak of levitation which snuggly blanketed his lanky figure relieved his nerves altogether.

He usually wouldn't let the sorcerer hugged him like this.

(Numb muscles. Cracking joints. _Ah, _his heart just skipped its normal beat.)

"Strange, don't you think?"

The question was delivered in unison with the glint of soft-brown gaze, pierced straight to a pair of his bright blue eyes. Stephen returned Tony's curious stare with a slightly perplexed look, "Don't _I_ think?"

"The _adjective_, you silly warlock," his typical satire tone kicked in, "It's strange that you saw millions of possibilities – it's already difficult for me to imagine if FRIENDS has two endings," Tony grabbed the guardian's hand and put it on his waist, "Well, I mean, parallel dimension, multiverse, although it was nearly impossible to understand at first, I can swallow the theory. Hardly, but edible. I won't be surprised if one day, another Tony Stark suddenly invades _this_ earth and declares his desire to rule the world," he groaned and protested the cloak for wrapping him too tightly, "I mean, how do you maintain your sanity?"

"You're saying _I'm_ sane. Are you sure?" Stephen playfully bantered.

"Mm, now that makes sense. The last time I tried to argue against sane people, I got the 'crazy' labeled on my forehead. The only reason we could talk like this without slapping each other is the proof that sanity is never a part of you," it was bold of Tony remembering his tendency to self-destruct every time he saw a chance, "How many Tony – _Tonies? _– have you met, Steph?" asked the skeptical old man, "Are we… You know, like _this_?"

"How would you prefer me to tell you the story, Tony? Alphabetically?" the former neurosurgeon moved a little so his lying position was now facing the Iron Man. Tony grunted a little for losing his chest-pillow, yet the softness of Stephen's sincere gaze didn't give him a space to complain. Extending his scarred, damaged hand, he captured Tony's face, delicately caressed it as he spoke, "You're always being you. Confident. Charming. Gifted. Cursed by knowledge," the sentence made them snorted a constipated laugh, "Sometimes, you live a normal life, sometimes the extravagant one, and in the other realm, you dedicated yourself as a brilliant villain, but there's a thing about you – that _no one_ could really, truly understands you,"

Tony raised an eyebrow, "There are fourteen million versions of me, and all of them are assholes."

"You always think that the world revolves around you and it takes a large-scale disaster to make you think otherwise," he was half-joking, "The alcoholic-you wasn't the worst I've ever witnessed."

"Were you digging up my past?" pretended to be annoyed, Tony flicked his lover's temple.

"I won't let you touch the drink ever again," Stephen convinced.

A light chuckle, "You haven't answered my second question."

"And, no. This… relationship, only exists here, right now, this universe, this timeline," those broken fingers shivered more than he thought, hard enough for Tony to notice and softly entwined his to fulfill the gap. It was a simple touch but succeeded to relieve the nervous sorcerer. Stephen resumed, "You and me – _us,_ happened this once amongst the other fourteen million."

"Did I kick your ass in the alternate dimension?" Tony's voice was hazy and sleepy.

"Once or twice, we most likely were in the same team," Stephen stared blankly at the ceiling, "There was this one mission where I had to cooperate with you and _God,_ Tony, I really hated you for being all cocky," he smiled at how Tony grinned, "You forced me to do stupid, reckless things, addressed us as 'the awesome facial hair bros' and it was the most ridiculous thing you could come up with."

"That totally sounds like me," he responded it after a yawn.

"See, you're now like a five-year-old who can't sleep unless I tell you bedtime stories," he sighed as he scolded the mechanic while stretching out his hand, a wordless gesture for Tony to return to his favorite human-cushion, "Come, sleep. I know you have an appointment tomorrow – I mean, _later_."

Obediently, Tony snuggled the sorcerer's bare chest and closed his eyes, "Why don't you just use your relic to turn back the time and let me sleep for another eight healthy hours," he faintly smiled, "Using an infinity stone as an alarm clock, you're just a wicked wizard, Stephen."

…

He sacrificed _trillions_ of lives for this exact moment,

They barely survived the battle. But seventy percent of the population didn't. Along with Tony's feet. The billionaire relied entirely on two artificial limbs he constructed from the remains after the catastrophe of this blue planet. The earth they knew was suffering from energy deficiency. The resource to charge the reactor on his chest was limited – nearly extinct. The hero who used to be powerful and encouraged to confront any threats was now an inch away from his final moment. Even so, Tony was living his chance to the fullest with a bright smile on his face; he woke up every morning and enjoyed his freshly brewed coffee before doing his things. Stephen regretted every second, with every beat of his heart.

Time stone was still in his possession. The final apocalypse was approaching with Thanos and the other four stones somewhere – it was about the time until the Mad Titan mastered the omnipresence.

It was an expensive price to pay; for this closeness, for his greed to claim this man.

Tony. _His_ Tony.

"So,"

Stephen flinched a bit. He thought the man of his life was asleep already.

"—you chose me."

"… yes."

"Say, if you were blessed by a second chance to choose—"

"Thanos created reality as effortless as clicking fingers, Tony," Stephen refuted. Fourteen million six hundred and four probabilities, branches from Thanos' inability to successfully gathered all six stones, and _they_ were one of the possible outcomes. He gritted his teeth; no matter how much he wanted to explain _things_, he knew it would lead them to nowhere, and Tony didn't need to be burdened by his impulsive, selfish decision. Stephen tightened his embrace, showered his beloved's face with kisses. It was a large number of bills he put at stake but he was willing to take the risk, "I won't lose you ever again, Tony, not this time, not any other time – whatever the consequences I have to suffer."

"Not anymore – not… _after _losing you for fourteen million times."

Tony didn't say a word.

"Hush, Tony," he softly whispered, "Sleep."

_As long as I'm here, you would never be alone. You would never lose—_

_—_in time.


End file.
